


Broken

by Drakochan



Category: Exalted, Exalted: Rise of the Scarlet Throne
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-21 18:12:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1559471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drakochan/pseuds/Drakochan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coming back to Creation after the Lotus Massacre has left Sidereals Asvel and Imani reeling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken

It was the blast of cold air as he stepped out of the Heaven's Gate that finally broke whatever had kept him going, whatever had given him the strength to go, when Ayesha had ordered it. When he had poured essence into getting them out, away, safe… The artifacts fell from his numb hands, crunching against the fresh layer of snow. His hands started to shake, and his breath, and his shoulders, as finally, the emotion hit him in a wave, and he fell to his knees, eyes fixed on the tiara, the hearthstone glinting in the bright light of the tundra, the image blurring in his vision as tears hot and stinging filled his eyes, streamed down his cheeks, and great, silent sobs wracked his form. Imani stood a few paces away, but neither of them said a word.

The day was too bright, the sky too clear, the world too fresh and new for what had just happened. It should be gray and stormy… Should be storming or dark or… Something. Something besides the beautiful clear day, with the sun bright at their backs, shining off the weapon and the artifact. He couldn't breathe, his chest aching, breath coming too quickly, and he fell forward into the snow, fingers breaking the crisp surface. Imani still hadn't moved, a breeze tugging at her hair, her back to Asvel.

"What are we supposed to do?" he said, voice cracking, watching his tears melt into the snow. "What can we fucking do against…" He couldn't finish, the image of Ayesha as he finally turned to run, standing with his blade in her hand, the weapons that had been a gift from her, and ultimately made their way back to her.

How many of them were left, besides the Serenity caste Cenaerys, and Imani, who stood as a statue in the snow, and himself? There was no way to know, not anymore. He gasped in breaths, the cold air burning in his throat and lungs. Why wouldn't she just _say something_?

"Imani, please…" his voice broke, chin raising to look across the snow. She didn't reply, but started walking, walking out into the endless white. "Imani!" his voice raised, and she faltered, fists clenching at her sides. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going back to them. They need to know."

He bit back the words, petulant and selfish, the words of the boy he had been growing up in her shadow. _I need you too._ Instead, teeth bit at chapped lips, and he watched her start to walk again when the silence stretched, watched her until he could barely make out her form in the snow, and his pants had been soaked through. Only then did he drag himself to his feet, eyes casting upwards to orient himself against the sky, and started walking as well. She was right, of course. They needed to know about what had happened.

They wouldn't really understand, though. They wouldn't get that nearly everyone he'd ever known was gone. Dead, wiped out in an instant. Like they never had been. Ayesha, fifteen hundred years of knowledge and grace and everything that he had come to rely on to set him on the right path, to point him in a direction and say 'go' to him… Gone. He stumbled as he walked, stopped to pick up the starmetal artifacts that had dropped from his hands, unable to bring himself to do more than grip them. They weren't his, not really. He hadn't done anything to earn them, and yet…

The horizon blurred in his vision so many times that he lost count, didn't bother wiping away the streams down his cheeks as he watched the sun drop over the horizon, the moon take its place, familiar constellations filling the sky. He stopped, sat down where he was, and wrapped his arms around his knees to stare into the night sky. She had taught him every name, every constellation, every meaning to the astrology of them. He remembered the way her face had lit with pride as he recited flawlessly the definitions, and in a way that meant he wasn't just parroting it back as he had so often did.

The sun rose again, and so did he, stumbling across the landscape, his footprints a trail behind him. Clouds covered the sky midway through the afternoon, a gentle layer of snow falling across the landscape, softening his footprints behind him. It melted into his clothing, and where he normally would have shivered, acutely aware of the cold, he didn't feel it, wasn't even aware of it. Was abstractly grateful for the hearthstones that kept sensation from him. He stopped, standing in the middle of a plane of white and staring at the distant blot of houses and stores that made up the town he'd left days ago when the summons had first come, and turned, angling away from the city instead. He couldn't face Ayrema. Couldn't stand to see Errik's youthful cheer, or Marren's quiet annoyance at the way Ay and Chi bickered endlessly half in Skytongue, half in Clawspeak. It was too normal. He wasn't ready for normal. He felt broken inside, and he couldn't handle that right now. Nothing was the same, everything had changed in a matter of seconds.

He couldn't go back to routine, not now, not when his world had turned upside down.

He lost track of the days, paid no attention to the hours of the night when he'd stop, and stare at the sky, watching the stars flicker in the heavens. He couldn't be alone anymore, this journey at an end, the blankness in his soul that mirrored the endless white landscape too much to bear.

Asvel stumbled along the road, and found his way back to the building with the crude drawing of a bear on the sign, and pushed the door open, the merry sounds of patrons filling the air, and his ears, and he immediately picked out Chi's heavy accent, and Ayrema's gruff tone, the way he got when he was in a foul mood, and the low sound of Marren, her words lost in the atmospheric white noise. The tears started anew, and he lifted his feet, the walk feeling like a run as he strode into the common room.

Ayrema stood so quickly the chair clattered to the floor, vaulted himself across the table, at which point everyone turned, a joyful chorus of his name. He said nothing, feeling too empty and drained for words, merely reaching out, grabbing a handful of Ayrema's coat, and pulling himself into it, pressing his face against Ayrema's shoulder, the smell of musty furs and sweat and the Lunar's distinct scent filling his nostrils, and he felt his shoulders shake, his grief muffled in the fabric of the man's clothing. 


End file.
